


no grand choirs to sing

by rosepetalfall



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Domestic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalfall/pseuds/rosepetalfall
Summary: If anyone had told twenty-four-year-old Bodhi that in ten years' time he’d be opening his apartment door to Wes Janson announcing, “I believe this is yours,” and gently pushing a drunk Luke Skywalker into his arms, he’s sure he wouldn’t have believed it.
Relationships: Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	no grand choirs to sing

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [Sassysnowperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson) for the cheerleading and extremely rapid beta read! :D And the fic's title comes from Florence & the Machine's No Choir.

If anyone had told twenty-four-year-old Bodhi that in ten years' time he’d be opening his apartment door to Wes Janson announcing, “I believe this is yours,” and gently pushing a drunk Luke Skywalker into his arms, he’s sure he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Hi,” Luke croons into Bodhi’s neck, already nestling in, like it’s just the two of them curled up in bed.

“Hi, honey,” Bodhi replies, feeling his chest go warm and struggling not to smile despite himself. “I thought the plan was for a _couple_ of drinks?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Wes, who blinks a little too slowly in response.

Luke is the kind of person who usually only swears over bad drivers and particularly complicated home repairs and who oh-so-carefully ironed his best shirt and slacks to meet Bodhi’s mother. He also, however, has a bizarrely high tolerance for alcohol. Probably because he spent most of his teenage years in a place known for moonshine potent enough to fuel a fighter jet. It’s kind of lucky because it means Luke knows how drunk he can get before his abilities go on the fritz, but it also means there’s no way this outing was anywhere near as tame as Bodhi had assumed.

Wes raises his hands palms up. He’s looking pretty glossy-eyed himself. “Solo and Antilles had this brilliant,” Wes grimaces, “idea that we should play some Correllian drinking game. The rest of us just ended up being . . .” he blinks again, then, eyes lighting up as he finds his words, he finishes triumphantly, “collateral damage.”

Against Bodhi’s neck, Luke nods vigorously, then seems to think better of it, his grip on Bodhi’s loose t-shirt tightening.

Bodhi huffs a laugh, rubs his hand soothingly over Luke’s back. “Okay. Well. Guess you better drink some water,” he says to Luke. “You okay to get home?” he adds, looking to Wes now.

“Yup,” Wes nods and gestures vaguely towards the dead end of the hallway. “Cab’s still downstairs.”

Once Bodhi has made sure that the cab driver really does have Wes’s correct address to get him home safely, he comes up to find Luke sitting at their kitchen counter, staring absently at a half-drunk glass of water.

“I could lift it with my mind if I wanted to,” Luke says, looking up at Bodhi very solemnly.

Bodhi comes up behind Luke, to press his face into Luke’s hair. “I know,” Bodhi agrees with a smile.

* * *

The first time Bodhi properly met Luke, he was just some vaguely familiar blond undergrad touring the Erso lab. Bodhi had been wrapped up in work, ignoring Kay as he ploughed through what was probably an overtechnical overview of their ongoing projects to some students. Bodhi had managed to finagle his way out of dealing with the undergrads by winning a round of cards, so admittedly some of his focus was just trying to avoid Kay’s glare. But eventually he hit an issue that he couldn’t figure out, something that needed Galen’s eyes. Mind still caught on the problem, eyes stuck to his tablet, he stood - and knocked over his mug full of pens. In that split second of awareness, Bodhi tensed, waiting for the impact.

But instead of hitting the ground, it just . . . stopped, hovering some six inches above the floor.

“There you go,” the blond guy said, flicking his fingers. The pens reordered themselves neatly into the mug, which floated gently up and settled back on Bodhi’s workstation.

“Telekinetic,” Bodhi blurted out. Then he just barely stopped himself from clamping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Telekinetics and telepaths were more common back home in Jedha than they were generally, but it's not like this kid would know that Bodhi's Jedhan and people got _weird_ about mind-based abilities. Bodhi didn’t want to give off the wrong impression because, oh god, Jyn would never stop laughing if she heard he was scaring undergrads off from her father’s lab -

The guy cut through Bodhi’s frantic swirl of thoughts with a simple, “Yeah,” followed by a little tucked-in grin. Like a secret. He was still leant over towards Bodhi. “Also a sophomore. You work on aeronautics?” he asked, fingers trailing over the edge of Bodhi’s workspace.

“Yeah,” Bodhi agreed, clutching tighter at his tablet.

“Cool,” the smile got a little wider, a little brighter. He was cute, Bodhi thought, which was sort of unfortunate. Bodhi was always finding people he shouldn’t cute. Like, at the moment, some random undergrad who was probably Galen’s student and therefore someone whose work Bodhi would probably have to grade because Galen was a genius at many things but actually doing his share of the grading was not one of them.

The guy’s gaze tracked over to where Kay was already leading the group back out the door. “I should go catch up.” But he turned back to Bodhi anyway and said, “I’m Luke, by the way. Skywalker. I see you at Chirrut and Baze’s sometimes? I’ve been meaning to say hi.”

Bodhi blinked, trying to place Luke’s face - it wasn’t coming to him, but the unconscious familiarity made more sense now. A lot of students with abilities came to Chirrut’s lessons. Bodhi was about as gifted as a doorknob, but the incense at the Center always smelled like home and the chai beat all the other tea on campus by miles.

“I’m Bodhi,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the peeling painter’s tape with his name that claimed his workspace as his own. “Rook.”

“Nice to meet you, Bodhi,” Luke said, somehow making it sound like saving Bodhi’s grotty University of Chandrila pen mug had genuinely been the highlight of his day.

Bodhi would learn later, over cups of chai drunk together on the Center’s rooftop: that Luke wasn’t even in Galen’s class and had only tagged along on the tour because he thought quinjets were cool, that he was a twin and a history major, and older than Bodhi had assumed, thanks to a gap year spent in Dagobah, training his ability after it got too difficult to manage on his own.

Their first kiss would take place on the same rooftop, a few weeks later, as the sun set.

* * *

“Bodhi,” Luke sing-songs, sounding far more sober than when Bodhi opened the door. He accompanies Bodhi’s name with a little flourish of a potato frite.

He’d asked Bodhi with a drunken pout to please, please order him some because it was very important. Bodhi had, because it would be good for Luke to eat something and because he knew that even drunk at one in the morning Luke would still offer to share.

“Mm?” Bodhi asks, sweeping his thumb back over Luke’s ankle. They’ve migrated to the couch, Luke’s legs tossed over Bodhi’s.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Luke requests, another iteration of a game they’ve been playing since that first long, late afternoon spent swapping stories and sipping chai.

Luke could know without asking, of course, but he wouldn’t, and he always says he likes listening to Bodhi talk better anyway.

“Just about the day we met,” Bodhi says, keeping his gaze fixed on Luke’s face.

He’s rewarded by Luke’s brilliant smile, the way it lights his eyes up. Luke shifts up onto his knees and maneuvers around - narrowly avoiding elbowing Bodhi in the face - until he’s settled into Bodhi’s lap, a warm and welcome weight.

“I thought you were _so_ handsome,” Luke says, beaming, reaching out to frame Bodhi’s face between his hands. “I couldn’t believe the thing with the mug actually got you to talk to me.”

“Definitely worked. Couldn’t think about anything else,” Bodhi agrees softly. It’s a confession so often shared between them that by now he associates it more with this, years of Luke’s lips and limbs and love, than with those initial days and weeks of learning each other, shy and eager in equal measure.

When Luke leans in to kiss him, it’s familiar, and all the more welcome for that.


End file.
